Calem's Jacket
by Nate-kun
Summary: It smells like Calem. /Kalosshipping, bite me.


**If I got paid a dollar everytime I wrote a story about these two, I'd probably have at least ten dollars. I'm not so sure if that's an achievement to be proud of or not, but either way, here's another one written for the season. I'm shivering, it's dark, I have nothing better to do.**

**Want to help me out and motivate me to get off of my ass and write more stories like these? It's simple. Review, review, review. Reviews help me know what you, as the reader, liked about the story, what you didn't like so much, what you thought overall, that sort-of thing. You help me, I help you, it's a back-scratching kind of situation. The world runs on feedback, shouldn't you be doing your part? Thanks in advance for your courtesy. It's that time of year that I'd really appreciate it, you know.**

**Word Count: 875 words.**

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Calem's Jacket

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Upon first entering Mamoswine Road, Serena establishes three cogent points of which are dire to her current situation.

One, _it's cold._

Two, _it's really cold._

Three-and arguably the most poignant of all-, Calem is quite possibly the worst piece of crap to be stuck out in the cold with.

It's Calem's idea. He's the one who suggests their plan of action, and by default it's his fault for making vastly inaccurate assumptions. Dumb, off-base assumptions that lead her to her body being blanketed in a white cocoon of frost and flakes.

He apologies vehemently, over and over, more times than he can count. He kisses up to her so many times, but she isn't letting him off that easy this time. It's almost a crime how such a petty oversight can turn two lives into a living hell.

It's not **_deathly _**cold, at least not for a bunch of people with a degree of common sense to get out of there as soon as possible.

Calem scratches the back of his neck as the two trudge through the harsh tundra, the silence is getting to him, the blustery winds around him seem to be intensifying the snow fort she's built around herself. It's awkwardness at its peak.

He just wants to make her happy, or at the very least, tolerable of his presence. Maybe like as well. Maybe one day they can hold hands, nuzzle noses together, giggle, act stupid, and all that stuff that his dorky little heart yearns for.

But no, Calem is the whipped blunder drone and Serena is the living epitome of a fortress. It just doesn't work, and whenever it does, it only lasts for a few seconds.

Desperate for communication, and more so wanting to make amends before the day's closure, Calem disregards all risks. He makes for an uneasy prod at her shoulder, and waits for the bite.

There is none.

Serena doesn't say or do anything that would give him the message that she hears him. It only deepens the blow, but not to the point where he feels the need to give up, that just isn't in him.

"A-Are, y-you um...c-cold?"

"Piss off."

Calem cringes, it's worse than what he was anticipating. She _really _doesn't want to bother with him, and that just makes him feel awful.

"_I-I was just wondering..._" he mumbles, hands in his pockets.

"What the hell do _you_ think?"

Rhetorical. His greatest enemy.

On the other hand, there could be some hope lying about for him, small hope, but hope nonetheless. A bright light at the end of his tunnel suggests that, if his cards are right, his day is lucky, and his chances are high, she might have simply misinterpreted his concern as typical deprecating Calem snark.

Deprecation-Calem however, is nowhere to be found. He figures that she needs to be aware of that.

"I...erm, uh..."

"Are you still talking?"

He rubs his arm, her scorn is so grimly, especially in a climate like this.

"I...um, that is to say, uhh... I-I just wanted to let you know that I'm sorry, but um, not just for _this_, but for a ton of other stuff _and-_"

"The damage is done. Drop it and deal."

But Calem can't drop it. He just can't and even if he could, he refuses to. The damage may be done, but it isn't mending, there's no healing being done to the injuries and if that doesn't take place, their dynamic is as good as gone.

Thinking quickly, fueled by the powers that be and a quick mind that thinks of ideas based on short notices and dreadful tropes, he grabs the zipper to his jacket and pulls down as quick as he can.

He tugs at her arm.

"What do you wan-? **_Huh?_**"

"Take this."

His trademark blue jacket is in her face and she has no idea what's possessed him to do that, though she has a pretty damn good clue on what he's going to do with it.

"Why?"

Calem starts rambling, he stutters, and kind-of twiddles his fingers and trips over his own silly words, on how he's genuinely sorry for being a dumb fuck that can't do anything right, a dumb fuckthat messes up all the time despite trying so hard, that pisses her off, that can't be the most flawless whipped underling in existence. That sort-of thing.

Serena stops him midway because she can pretty much predict the rest of it.

"You're annoying to listen to when you're nervous, do you know that?"

He looks away with an embarrassed blush, which could be justified by the snow blowing all over the place, but it's quite obvious that that isn't the case for it.

"W-Well, are you going to take it?"

"The jacket that smells like you because you never freaking take it off? Hell no."

"S-So...you'd rather freeze?"

Every once in a while, he gets the upper-hand. She takes it and immediately basks herself in his scent just so she can get adjusted to it and not have to be bothered by it in the future.

Somewhat intoxicating, not that she would let him know that.

"So... Are we good now?"

She huffs, "It's a start, I guess."


End file.
